


"The Angel Stream I: Christmas Eve"

by Gaedhal



Series: "The Angel Stream" [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 04:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10403559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaedhal/pseuds/Gaedhal
Summary: It's Christmas Eve of 2004 and Brian Kinney is tired.It's Christmas Eve of 2004 and Justin Taylor is frustrated.What happens when their paths cross?





	1. Chapter 1

Pittsburgh, December 2004

 

Brian Kinney was tired.

He hated Christmas ordinarily and this year was even worse than usual.

Although he had finished his radiation treatments months ago, Brian was still feeling the effects of his illness. His ass still began to drag way too early in the evening when he should just be getting started at Woody’s or Babylon. He didn’t have the stamina he used to. Brian could no longer dance or stay up half the night and still make it to work in the morning looking fresh and perfect. 

Because he no longer was perfect.

And Brian hated the smug look on Gardner Vance’s face whenever he told Brian that he looked pale or asked him if he wanted to go home early. Fuck that! Gardner was only trying to retain the upper hand, even though Brian was a full partner at Vangard. Cancer had knocked Brian off course physically and mentally, but also professionally. And he was still trying to get back into the swing of things.

Brian found that he had much less patience with other people than he had before his illness, even with his friends. He found himself snapping at Michael for no reason and unable to stomach spending too much time with Emmett and Theodore. Even Lindsay had upbraided him for his bad attitude and told him that he better shape up or Gus would think his father was an old Scrooge -- and not only at Christmas.

And then there was sex. Frankly, it sucked. Brian had a new plastic ball to replace the one he’d lost, but it didn’t feel the same as the real one. He also had a nasty scar just above his groin. Try explaining that to some trick who you didn’t want to talk to anyway! Half the time he’d lose his erection as the guy kept asking and asking about it. Shit! That was the last thing he needed to boost his flagging self-confidence.

For a long time after his diagnosis and operation, Brian had been impotent, although he never said that word out loud. He knew that Michael suspected that he’d been having problems, but they never discussed it directly. Michael was too chickenshit to bring up something like that with Brian. Instead, Michael had tried to be subtle. That was a laugh!

Michael had come over to the loft one evening and suggested – in his usual clumsy way – that Brian see some Chinese herbalist who Ben frequented.

“Ben swears by him,” Michael insisted. “His herbs help to balance Ben’s meds and keep his viral load down.”

“You realize that’s utter horseshit, Michael,” Brian had said, bleakly. His dick hadn’t even stirred in weeks and he doubted that a pot of yak vomit tea was going to cure what ailed him.

“It was only a thought,” shrugged Michael, giving up without a fight. And then he went home, leaving Brian alone in the loft to drink and brood.

Eventually, Brian’s erection returned, but it just wasn’t the same. 

Brian had once taken pride in his sexual prowess and in the number of guys he could fuck in a night. But now he felt like he was going through the motions. He’d haul himself to Babylon, have a few drinks, and dance unenthusiastically. He’d look around and see guys much younger and much more energetic than he was. Yes, hot guys still gave Brian the eye. And he still saw hot guys he desired. Lots of very hot young guys.

But sometimes it simply wasn’t worth the effort. Would he be able to get it up? Would the trick make some stupid comment or ask about his scar? Would the trick notice that one of his balls felt different than the other? Christ, thought Brian, staring into his Jack Daniels.

More often than not, Brian finished his drink and then went home alone. 

Brian Kinney was 33, but he felt more like he was 100 years old.

 

***

 

Justin Taylor was happy to be home for Christmas, but part of him still wished he were somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

It wasn’t that he missed Dartmouth so much. That wasn’t the problem. In fact, he didn’t miss Dartmouth at all. He was on the Dean’s List and acing all of his class, but that was what his parents expected. Because Justin was the perfect son, after all. The perfect student. The perfect WASP country club boy.

Except that it was all a lie.

Justin wasn’t perfect. He hated college and he hated his major. Every time he walked into one of his Business classes he got a stomach ache. During his freshman year he had spent more time in the Infirmary than he had in his dorm room. At least, that’s what it had seemed like.

And now it was almost over. He was a senior. Two more terms and he’d be done.

But then what?

Justin shuddered. The thought of spending the rest of his life in some stuffy office, writing reports, meeting clients, and pretending that he didn’t hate his life utterly and passionately, filled him with despair. And his stomach began to ache again.

“Why don’t you talk to your parents about what you’re feeling?” the school psychologist had suggested.

“I can’t,” said Justin for about the hundredth time. He went to the shrink at least once a week. He talked about his unhappiness. His fear. His parents’ expectations. And....

“Are you going to tell them that you’re gay, Justin?” the psychologist prodded gently.

“I can’t!” Justin whispered. “They wouldn’t understand.”

“But you told me that you think your mother already knows,” said the shrink. “Maybe she could be the one you finally confide in. And then she could help your father to understand.”

“He’ll never understand!” Justin almost yelled. “I’ve told you that! I can’t tell him! I... I just can’t.”

Justin felt like the world’s biggest coward. He’d once been so certain about what he wanted from life. He wanted to be an artist. He had talent and he dreamed of attending art school and making his living doing something he really loved.

But then those feelings began to overwhelm him. His desire for men. And that both frightened and excited him.

Justin had tried to work up enough courage to go down to the Gay and Lesbian Center on Liberty Avenue. Once he and his friend, Daphne, had walked by it. He stopped and looked at the building. Maybe if he went inside and picked up a brochure. Or talked to someone there. Someone who understood what he was going through. Someone who understood the feelings that he was having.

“Are you going in?” Daphne asked.

She knew. And Justin knew that she knew, but they had never talked about it. Sometimes Justin felt that everyone at school knew his supposed secret. That they all sensed that Justin Taylor was the class faggot. He had few male friends and always hung around with Daphne and a group of her girlfriends. He went shopping with them. Went to Art Club with them. Even stayed overnight at their houses. Yes, they all knew. But it was never spoken aloud.

Until Justin made the mistake of acting on his impulses one unfortunate day early in his senior year at St. James. He and a boy he had a crush on, Chris, were cleaning the equipment room and they ended up fooling around. Justin jerked Chris off and Chris seemed to really like it. That had been the turning point.

Maybe they could be friends, Justin thought. Not boyfriends, of course – Chris had a girlfriend and was a straight football jock. But maybe Chris wouldn’t mind having Justin hang around him a little. Maybe let Justin do things to him sexually. Nothing major, just allow Justin to jerk him off every once in a while. Justin didn’t want much more than that.

But after the incident in the equipment room, Chris openly turned against Justin. He and his pals harassed Justin at school, knocking him down, tripping him on the stairs, and writing ‘fag’ on his locker. Justin was terrified to complain for fear that the headmaster of St. James’ Academy would call his parents and tell them that their only son was a queer. 

So Justin retreated into himself. He quit the Art Club and focused on studying and getting a good score on his SAT’s. Only when he was alone in his room did he think about beautiful men. About touching them. Kissing them. Holding them. Making love to them. It was only a fantasy, but it was safe. Chris and his buddies eventually got tired of pestering him and Justin melted back into anonymity at school. 

And Justin also gave up his dream of becoming an artist. Instead, he went to the college that his father selected, majored in the subject his father wanted him to major in, and lived the life that his father assumed was what Justin wanted. 

In other words, a big, fat, fucking lie.

Justin Taylor had just turned 22, but he felt more like he was about 12 years old.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas isn't very merry.

Pittsburgh, December 2004

 

Most of Brian’s Friday afternoon was taken up with the Vangard Christmas Party. Or Holiday Party. Or whatever the fuck they were calling it these days.

Brian tossed back another shot and watched his co-workers laughing, drinking eggnog, and exchanging presents. Even Gardner was smiling and pretending to have a good time. They’d had a great year, especially since their client, Jim Stockwell, had become mayor of Pittsburgh the year before. Stockwell’s influence had brought them a lot of new business and Brian had benefitted greatly, even though he’d been hindered by his cancer treatments. And his reward was a big end-of-the-year bonus.

But the money didn’t make him happy. In fact, it only made him depressed.

There had been a time when a large bonus would have been enough to make him tingle with an almost sexual delight, but that time was long past. He had plenty of money. He had plenty of designer clothes. He had a big screen plasma television and every gadget that caught his eye and a classic Corvette in which to tool around Pittsburgh, even though it was a bitch to drive in the snow.

And Brian’s money and his generous insurance package had meant that he got the best medical care possible when he had been diagnosed. That is, once he decided that he wanted medical care. When the doctor gave him the news, Brian’s first thought was suicide. He had dreamed about going to some exotic location, like Ibiza or Mykonos or Bali, and having one last, amazing sexual fling. And then ending it all right there. 

Brian knew his drugs well enough to be able to discern exactly how much it would take to kill a man of his size. How many pills and how much booze. And there were other ways to off yourself, too. Ibiza and Mykonos and Bali were all islands and drowning was always a possibility. Just letting himself go in the water. Giving himself up quietly, gently.

Or else giving himself the biggest fucking orgasm of his life as he checked out at the same time! He’d tried that once before. It was his thirtieth birthday and Brian knew that his experiment with scarfing might well end with his death, but he had been willing to take that chance. He was still young and still beautiful. It would all be downhill from there anyway.

But fucking Mikey had interrupted him. Saved him from himself – or so the little busybody liked to claim. Thanks for the favor, Michael, Brian thought. Thanks for letting me live so that I could get cancer. So that I could become what I never wanted to be – a pathetic, ageing, and sick faggot trying to act 10 years younger and fooling no one.

Of course, Michael could never understand Brian’s attitude. Michael was Mr. Happy Housewife. He’d broken up with David shortly after they moved to Portland. But when Michael came back to town he had met Ben and immediately entered into Domestic Homo Bliss with the professor. Brian never told Michael that Brian had fucked Ben a few years before at the White Party down in Miami. Michael would probably freak out if he knew that, so it remained a secret between him and Ben. At least Ben didn’t treat Michael like his surrogate son, the way David had. He guessed that Mikey was happy. Or thought he was happy. What the fuck did it matter to Brian? Happiness was bullshit.

Brian left the Vangard Christmas Party early and went over to Lindsay and Mel’s house, bringing expensive presents for everyone. He and Mel still didn’t get along, but she seemed more tolerant of him since she’d had her own kid. He had presents for little Jenny, too, along with those for Gus. They weren’t really great presents for a little baby – how the fuck did Brian know what a little baby wanted? But the gifts would impress the girls. Some fancy blankets. A sterling silver spoon with Jenny Rebecca’s name engraved on it. And a Madame Alexander doll.

For Gus, Brian thought he did a lot better. He got his son an exact replica of Brian’s Corvette in miniature. The wheels turned and the doors opened and it was something that Brian would have loved as a kid. He got Gus a bunch of other things, too, but he knew that Gus would love the car the most.

Brian sat in the living room while Gus ripped the wrapping paper off his gifts and Lindsay and Mel oo-ed and ah-ed over Jenny’s stuff and the baby crawled around on the floor. Brian winced as he looked at the little munchkin. Gus was already tall and good-looking for a four year old, with a charming grin and a wicked sense of humor. Everyone loved Gus and said that he’d be a heartbreaker, just like his old man.

But Jenny Rebecca was small and wizened, with wispy black hair and pinched little features. She was a cranky, fussy baby, always crying and whining. Lindsay had wanted Brian to father Mel’s baby so that the two children would be true siblings, but Brian had balked. It was one thing to donate sperm to Lindz – she was his friend and they had even had a fling of sorts in college. But Brian didn’t like Melanie. Didn’t like her attitude or her jealousy of his relationship with Lindsay. He didn’t want to have a kid with Mel and it was only very reluctantly that he finally agreed to do it.

But then Mel changed her mind and asked Michael to be the father. Brian was surprised at how much that had pissed him off, especially since the girls didn’t insist that Michael give up his parental rights, the way they had made him do with Gus. That really irked Brian. 

Brian thought Michael was a good-looking guy. He wasn’t Brian’s type in any way, but some guys liked a short, eager bottom. And Brian also guessed that Melanie could be attractive in a hard dykey way. She might even be pretty if she smiled once in a while. But both Michael and Mel were short and dark and, frankly, their kid looked like a fucking gnome! Next to the beautiful Gus, Brian thought that poor little Jenny looked like something that even the dog would refuse to play with unless they tied a porkchop around her neck. But he would certainly never say that to Lindsay! She’d kick his ass out the door. 

So they all sat and pretended that the baby was cute and they watched Gus play with his new car and Brian choked down some of their homemade eggnog and dry Christmas cookies. Finally, Brian stood up.

“I’ve got to be going,” he announced, reaching for his coat and scarf.

“Brian, why don’t you stay for dinner?” Lindsay suggested. “We’re having pizza tonight and then roast beef tomorrow. You know you’ve welcome any time.”

Brian gazed at Gus. He was getting so fucking big!

“No thanks, Lindz,” Brian replied. “I’ve got plans for the evening.”

“Can’t you skip Babylon for one night?” she said sadly. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know,” said Brian. “All the more reason.” He kissed her lightly. “Maybe I’ll stop by tomorrow to see Gus’s haul from Santa Claus.”

“Santa!” Gus cried in delight. “I’m getting stuff!”

“Yeah,” Brian smiled. “Lots of stuff! That’ll make you happy, kid. Just like your old man.”

Lindsay shook her head. She knew that Brian was far from happy, but she was at a loss what to do about it. 

The cancer had devastated him. And Vic had died almost a year ago and that threw everyone. But Brian seemed to take it almost harder than he had his own father’s death, even though he tried to hide his feelings from everyone. And Michael, although still Brian’s friend, had his own life now, with a partner and a foster son and his own business. He didn’t have the time or the desire to hang out with Brian at Woody’s or dance the night away at Babylon anymore. It was as if everyone else was moving forward, while Brian was still clinging to the past. That worried Lindsay, but whenever she tried to talk to Brian about it, he shut down.

“Be good,” she said to Brian. “And Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah,” he said, going out the door. “Whatever the fuck.”

 

***

 

“Justin, is there something wrong?” asked Jennifer Taylor.

She had watched with growing concern as her son became more and more withdrawn every time she saw him. 

Jennifer had been very worried about Justin during his first year at Dartmouth. She had never known Justin to be so unhappy, even though he tried to hide it. But when he came home that first Thanksgiving he was thin and drawn and snappish. He sat in his room and barely even communicated with her or Craig or Molly. 

Daphne came over a few times over that break, but she didn’t stay very long. She was happy at Carnegie Mellon. She loved her classes and even had a new boyfriend. But Justin didn’t want to hear about what a wonderful time Daphne was having at college. He was miserable and hearing that other people were happy depressed him even more.

But slowly Justin seemed to be resigned to his fate. That first summer back home he had gotten a job in an insurance office, filing and running errands. He hated every second of it. He hated the people and he hated the atmosphere. So he was almost glad to get back to school in the fall.

Then the next summer he took a job as an intern in a law office. That was more interesting, but he still wasn’t happy. He often sat at his desk and drew caricatures of his co-workers on legal pads when he was supposed to be looking up references for cases. Again, he was glad to go back to Dartmouth at the end of September.

Dartmouth had a few gay organizations and Justin went to a couple of meetings to see what it was like. But the kids were all out. Most of them had been out since high school and they couldn’t understand Justin’s own reluctance to declare himself as gay.

“What is this? The fucking Eighties?” one guy had said to him, like Justin was the most backward thing he’d ever seen. “Just tell your folks and forget it! What’s the big deal?” Then the guy offered him a beer and asked him to go back to his dorm room for a casual fuck.

But Justin couldn’t bring himself the admit that he was still a virgin. In fact, he was humiliated to admit it. And the last person in the world he wanted to do it with the first time was this jerk, with his pierced eyebrows and his superior attitude. So Justin stopped going to the meetings and fell back into his own quiet anonymity on campus, just as he had at St. James.

The summer after his junior year Justin couldn’t face another office job, so he convinced his parents to send him to Europe on a student tour. They hit all of the major tourist spots – London, Paris, Madrid, Rome, Florence. And Justin spent as much time as he could in the museums, often blowing off other attractions so that he could go back to the National Gallery or the Prado and wander through the rooms filled with beautiful paintings, longing for his sketchpad, but knowing that this would never be his life. It was useless even to think about it.

In Florence an older man began talking to him in one of churches they were touring. He looked like he was in his forties, with gray streaks in his wavy black hair. He spoke perfect English and wore an Armani suit. He invited Justin to have a cappuccino with him and Justin accepted.

Justin knew that the man wanted to sleep with him. And Justin was dying to rid himself of his virginity. What better souvenir to take home from his trip to Europe? So what was he waiting for? The man was rich and well-dressed. He was charming. So what if he wasn’t the man of Justin’s dreams? So what if he wasn’t the tall, beautiful man Justin could picture so well in his head that he could have drawn him perfectly?

In the end, Justin begged off. He had to go back to his group. The man gave Justin his cellphone number and urged him to call it.

“You could stay at my villa,” the man told him. “I will show you so many things. I will make you happy.”

But Justin knew that this man wouldn’t make him happy. It was a nice fantasy, but it wasn’t real. Justin didn’t have the courage to leave his tour and run away with this older man. So he went home and then started his senior year at Dartmouth.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do this summer, honey? After graduation?” Jennifer asked as they wrapped presents together at the dining room table. It was Christmas Eve and Justin seemed listless and depressed, even more so than usual.

“No, I haven’t thought about it,” he said softly. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“What do you mean, darling?” Jennifer pressed.

“Just what I said!” Justin barked back at her. “I don’t want to think about after graduation! I don’t care what I do, so why do you ask me about it?”

“Justin, please talk to me about this,” Jennifer begged. “I know that you’re... you’re not happy. Is there anything I can do?”

Justin snorted. “Now you care if I’m happy? Why, Mom? You never cared before. Not as long as I did what you and Dad wanted me to do. And I did it, Mom. But... but I can’t do it much longer. I just can’t!”

“Do what?” Jennifer said fearfully.

“Be your perfect little man, Mom,” said Justin, his voice trembling. “Because I’m not your perfect little man! I’m... I’m....” He paused and gulped. “I’m gay, Mom.”

Jennifer felt her heart sink. She’d known it deep inside, but she’d also hoped that she was wrong. And she ached for her son’s unhappiness. For his pain. She had watched him give up his art and his dreams in order to please his father. But this... Craig would never accept it. Never.

“Honey, maybe you should see a therapist?” Jennifer suggested. “This might be a phase you’re going through.”

“It isn’t a phase, Mom,” Justin sighed. “And I’ve been seeing a psychologist at school almost since my first term there. She thinks I should have come out to you back then. That I should have told you that... that I’m gay right away. But I couldn’t! And I also should tell you now that I have no intention of going into business with Dad or working at an office after I graduate.”

“But, Justin, what will you do?” said Jennifer, in alarm.

“I’m thinking of going out to San Francisco,” Justin announced. “Maybe I could get a job as a waiter there. Or in a store. But no one there will think I’m a freak, Mom. No one will care if I’m gay. Maybe I could even... even have a relationship with someone. Or at least try to. I can’t do that here in Pittsburgh. Or at Dartmouth. Until then, I’m going to bide my time, Mom. And then I’m going to get out of here!”

“Oh, Justin!” Jennifer wailed.

Justin stood up. Suddenly the room felt too small. The whole house felt too small. “I have to get some air,” he said.

“Justin! Where are you going?” Jennifer followed her son to the door as he grabbed his coat and the keys to her car.

“Out,” he said shortly. “Don’t wait up for me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babylon on Christmas Eve.

Pittsburgh, December 2004

 

Babylon on Christmas Eve was loud, gaudy, and hot.

The go-go boys were dressed in red and green g-strings and Santa hats, and silver Christmas trees decorated with plastic balls dotted the main floor.

Brian immediately went to get a drink, but he turned up his nose at some of the disgusting concoctions they were offering for Christmas. Eggnog Cosmos sounded horrible and Candy Cane Cosmos looked even worse, but guys were downing them left and right. Brian sneered and ordered an Absolut.

Emmett and Ted were leaning against the stairs, watching the dance floor. Theodore’s arm was around Emmett, which meant they must be ‘on’ again. Their up-and-down relationship had been a running joke for the past three years. They’d be hot and heavy for a few months and then have a big blow up and not speak to each other for weeks. Then, just as suddenly, they’d be back together again as if nothing had happened. Their last break-up had been a few months before, something about Emmett breaking one of Ted’s rare Renata Tebaldi records. But now they seemed happy as clams. The two of them made Brian want to puke.

“Hey, Bri!” Ted called cheerily. “We wondered when you’d get here.”

“I was at Lindsay and Mel’s watching Gus open his presents,” Brian offered.

“That is SO cute!” gushed Emmett. “Mel brought Gus and the baby into the diner the other day when I was eating lunch and I was having the best time with them!” Em fluttered his eyes at Ted. “Makes me want to have one of our own. Right, Teddy?”

Ted grimaced, but then he said, “Maybe, Em.” He took a big gulp of his drink – one of the Candy Cane Cosmos. “Someday in the far, far future.”

“But we’ll have plenty of room!” Emmett countered. “Did Teddy tell you that we’re buying a house, Brian? One with a white picket fence and a nice big backyard! And a swing set!”

“Congratulations,” Brian deadpanned. “Are you knocked up yet?”

Ted turned a lovely shade of green, but Emmett only giggled. “I think a surrogate mother is the way to go. That way the baby will really and truly be ours. Although those Chinese babies are AWFULLY adorable!”

But Brian didn’t smile. “Having a kid isn’t like picking out a puppy at the pound, Emmett. In fact, maybe getting a dog and seeing if you two idiots are capable of taking care of one without killing it might be a good idea before you drag some poor baby into the picture!”

“You’re such a fucking bitch, Brian!” Emmett huffed.

“Yeah, but at least I don’t live in a faggot’s dream world!” Brian downed his Absolut. “Where the hell is Michael?”

Ted pointed to the dance floor. “He and Ben are out there. But they aren’t staying long. They don’t want to leave Hunter alone on Christmas Eve.”

Brian snorted. “That kid is fully able to take care of himself, even on Christmas! They’ll probably go home and catch him giving Santa a blowjob.”

Ted rolled his eyes and Emmett glared at Brian. “Is nothing sacred to you?” Emmett demanded.

“Not really,” Brian shrugged. “Why should it be?”

“Brian!” Michael called, pushing through the crowd. “We were just about to leave, but I didn’t want to go without seeing you!”

“So? You’re seeing me,” Brian grumbled. “Hey, Ben.” He eyed Michael’s partner. Ben always looked away whenever they saw each other, as if he felt guilty about something. But they’d fucked long before Ben ever met Mikey, so what was his problem?

“Are you coming to Deb’s tomorrow for Christmas dinner, Brian?” asked Ben.

Brian shook his head. “I don’t think so. I might stop at Lindsay’s in the afternoon and see Gus, but I don’t feel like doing that whole holiday charade. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“But it’s Christmas, Brian!” Michael insisted. “It’s only once a year. And Ma is expecting you!”

“I said that I don’t feel like going!” Brian snapped. “So give it a fucking rest, Mikey! Holidays are nothing but bullshit. It’s fine if you’re four years old, but a bunch of adults making a fuss over a stupid holiday is majorly fucked up!”

“But since Vic died....” Michael went on.

Brian winced at the mention of Vic’s name. Vic’s death and Brian’s cancer diagnosis had happened almost simultaneously and Brian still had troubling dreams connecting Vic’s demise with his own illness and loss of perfection. The last thing he wanted to be reminded of tonight was death and the ominous shadow that Brian felt was hanging over his pathetic life.

“Why don’t you shut up, Michael?” Brian blasted, setting down his empty glass. “Go home and read fairy tales to your Sonny Boy and leave me the fuck out of it!”

Brian pushed past his oldest friend and headed for the dance floor. In earlier years Brian would already have picked out a trick and begun the process of cutting him from the herd. There would be a quick trip to the backroom and then the cycle began again until Brian felt satisfied.

But there was no longer a backroom in Babylon. Mayor Stockwell had shut it down as part of his ‘Family Friendly Pittsburgh’ campaign, along with all of the bathhouses in the area. Even a few of the bars on Liberty Avenue had shuttered, unable to afford the fines levied against them for ‘immoral behavior’ by their patrons. Meathook had been the first to close, then Boy Toy was shut for serving minors. The atmosphere on Liberty Avenue after Stockwell’s victory and then the 2004 election was one of general resignation and retreat.

Brian cruised the perimeter of the dance floor, looking for someone. Someone likely. Someone new. But there were few new faces. The Pittsburgh pool of gay talent was a finite one and Brian had already had most of the hottest guys available. He’d even started to do repeats occasionally, but only if the guy was an especially good fuck.

Brian saw a slightly familiar face nearby. He’d had this guy a while ago. Picked him up in Woody’s and taken him into the bathroom there. He hadn’t been bad. It was too cold to fuck in the alley, so maybe he’d invite the guy back to the loft. It was getting late and Brian didn’t want to concede to himself that he was tired. Or that what he wanted more than anything else was his own warm bed. After all, Brian Kinney had an image to uphold. The Stud of Liberty Avenue, now and always.

Brian moved onto the dance floor and worked his way up to his prey. He was better than Brian remembered. About 25, good pecs, dark hair, nice ass. He’d had a hot mouth, too. The guy had only blown him in Woody’s, so Brian was excited at the prospect of getting into his firm ass.

The guy acknowledged Brian with a smile. His shirt was open and Brian ran his long fingers up and down the trick’s chest. Brian felt his dick get hard. Very hard. Merry fucking Christmas, Brian thought. Maybe this night wasn’t going to be a total loss after all.

 

***

 

Justin parked his mother’s car on a side street off Liberty Avenue and got out. There were bars scattered up and down the street and a big, loud club – Babylon – just down the way.

Justin hesitated. A bar was too small. He might be too obviously a newcomer and some guy might single him out and say something to embarrass him. But the club was large. He could observe things there. Melt into the scenery. Justin suddenly wished that he’d waited until after Christmas and taken Daphne with him. That way he wouldn’t feel so alone and exposed.

Justin was carded at the door of the club. He was used to that. He knew that he looked very young, even though he had turned 22 a few weeks before. The bouncer examined his Dartmouth ID and his driver’s license carefully. Stockwell’s goons were constantly trying to close the club down and they couldn’t afford to make a mistake. But this one looked legit. Justin paid a membership fee and a cover charge and was admitted into Babylon.

It was loud inside. Really loud. Really, really loud. Justin blinked his eyes, trying to find his way around. The corners were extremely dark, but the dance floor was awash in flashing lights. Strobes swept the dancers. Go-go boys, who were almost completely naked, writhed on platforms.

“Excuse me! Sorry!” Justin kept bumping into people. Or they kept bumping into him. Then one of the guys who bumped into him squeezed his ass and Justin realized that the bumping wasn’t an accident. They were feeling him up!

The squeezing guy grinned at him. He was very muscular with tattoos on his arms and a shaved head. This was definitely not the man of Justin’s dreams. In fact, Justin was afraid of him. He looked rough and mean. Justin stepped back, tripping over another man behind him.

“Whoa there, sweetie!” said the tall, thin man. He was wearing a silver shirt tied up to bare his midriff and he had a Southern accent. “You almost spilled my drink!”

“I’m sorry! Can you tell me where the bar is?” Justin managed to say.

“That way.” The thin guy pointed.

Justin mumbled his thanks and blundered in the direction of the bar. Most of the men were drinking something that looked like eggnog in a martini glass, but Justin didn’t think he could stomach that. Instead, he ordered a beer and the bartender carded him again. Justin sighed and showed him his license.

This was such a fucking mistake, Justin thought. He had rushed out of the house after that blurted admission to his mother and ended up here, in the middle of Gay Pittsburgh. But Justin didn’t feel in the mood to dance or even to drink. He felt like his life was already at a dead-end and he hadn’t lived at all yet! 

Justin remembered when he’d been a cocky and self-confident boy, but that seemed a long time ago. What had happened to him? Why had he caved in to his father? Why hadn’t he told his mother the truth about his sexuality ages ago? Because he was scared, that’s why. He was a big pussy. Justin looked around at all the men, drinking, dancing, touching each other, kissing each other. That’s what he wanted to do, too. But he was still afraid. Yes, a fucking pussy boy!

Justin walked around the edge of dance floor, watching. Looking for... for what? A person? Yes, the man of his dreams. Or someone like him. But all of the bodies blended together in the surge of flesh. He couldn’t make out faces. He couldn’t see their eyes. And he had to see their eyes. That’s how he would know the right one. By his eyes. One look would tell Justin all he needed to know.

Someone grabbed Justin from behind and pressed his stiff cock up against Justin’s pants. An arm reached around and held him tightly. “Come on, sweet stuff. Let’s dance.” The man’s hot breath was at Justin’s ear.

Justin turned around. It was a blond, shirtless man. He had a tattoo of a sunburst around his left nipple. He was smiling like he was high. He held out his hand and offered Justin a pill. “Have some ‘E.’ The first one’s on me.”

But Justin pulled away. He was allergic to almost everything and he often had a bad reaction to unknown drugs. He’d smoked a lot of weed in high school and occasionally in the dorm at Dartmouth, but he usually drew the line at anything stronger.

“I’m not into that,” said Justin.

“Come on!” the man insisted. “It’s Christmas!”

Yeah, thought Justin. It’s Christmas. What the fuck am I doing here?

He turned around and walked through the crowd, looking for the door. Finally, Justin found the exit and pushed his way outside into the freezing air.

It was just beginning to snow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outside of Babylon.

Pittsburgh, December 2004

 

Justin’s hands were shaking as he lit a cigarette.

It was starting to snow, but he’d forgotten his scarf and his gloves in his hurry to leave the house. Justin pulled his collar up around his neck, shielding it from the cold.

Two men just outside the exit of Babylon were kissing and groping each other. One was taller and looked a little older than other guy, who was slim and blond. The shorter guy leaned his head against the taller man’s chest, while the taller one smiled.

“Move on! Move it now!” 

A pair of cops from Mayor Stockwell’s Vice Patrol shoved the two lovers along the sidewalk. The cops were dressed in black leather coats and carried batons, leading most of the denizens of Liberty Avenue to refer to them as the Stormtroopers.

“Don’t touch me!” the shorter man bristled.

“Don’t block the pavement or we’ll run you in, pansy!” barked one of the cops. 

The taller man took his boyfriend’s arm and pulled him away. Neither one of them wanted to spend Christmas Eve in the Pittsburgh PD’s infamous ‘Queens Tank.’

Justin stared at the little drama in dismay. Then one of the cops noticed him. “You move along, too, faggot! Go home where you belong and don’t clutter up the streets!”

Justin backed away as the Vice Patrol continued their circuit of the streets. Yes, that’s what he was, Justin thought. A faggot. There was no doubt. There was no hiding it anymore. Maybe he would spend his life being hated. Or maybe he might even find love someday. But he couldn’t deny what he was. He was just like the two men who had been pushed along the sidewalk. Except he was alone.

It stopped snowing. Justin clutched his cigarette. He felt a little dizzy and the pavement was slippery. There was a streetlight a few feet away. Justin stumbled over to it and leaned against the metal pole, trying to get his bearings.

 

***

 

Brian danced with the trick for two songs, but it was getting late. It had been a long day and his dick was hard. Let’s get this show on the road, Brian thought.

“Come back to my loft,” said Brian in the trick’s ear. “I want your ass to get a taste of my 9 inch cock!”

Ordinarily, those were the words that sealed the deal. Brian took the trick’s hand and began leading him off the dance floor. 

But the guy stopped in his tracks. He pulled his hand out of Brian’s grasp. “I don’t think so,” said the trick. “I’ve already had you.”

Brian blinked. “What did you say?”

The trick shrugged. “I said that we’ve already tricked. Last summer, remember? At Woody’s. You were okay, but I think that I can do better tonight.”

“Oh, you think so?” said Brian, his face red.

But the trick only stared at him. “Yeah, I think so. I know you’re Brian Kinney and you’re supposedly hot shit, but aren’t you a little old for this game? You must be at least 35! I’d like to pick up someone a little younger and hotter for Christmas. That’s my Christmas present to myself.”

“I’m 33,” Brian countered. He’d been insulted before, but this one really threw him. “And fuck you!”

“Whatever,” said the trick, indifferently. Then he moved back onto the dance floor.

Brian walked to the cloakroom and retrieved his jacket. He saw Ted and Emmett waving him over to the bar, but he ignored them. Michael and Ben had already gone home.

Brian walked out of Babylon. His hands were shaking. 

The trick was right. What the fuck did he think he was doing? He wasn’t the same as he’d been. He wasn’t as hot. He was no longer the perfect stud, the ultimate fuck. Men could sense that he was diseased and it would only get worse from now on. The trick had thought he was 35! That really hurt! Cancer and radiation and a slow, painful recovery had obviously aged him. Brian didn’t feel the same and it showed.

Merry fucking Christmas!

Brian looked up and saw a young blond leaning against the lamppost right outside of Babylon. He was finishing a cigarette and glancing around at the men passing by.

Brian’s heart gave a lurch in his chest. Here was everything he once had been. Young. Beautiful. Sexy. Confident. A few stray flakes of melting snow clung to the young man’s golden hair and Brian longed to brush them away with his long fingers. Longed to brush his own lips against the blond’s plush, pink lips. Put his arms around this young man and feel his warmth, his vitality.

But it was useless. Brian suddenly saw a picture of his own bleak future. He saw a lonely man who had once been beautiful, but who was now sick and ageing. A bitter man who took little pleasure in the things that had once obsessed him. The thrill of the chase. The taste of good liquor. An awesome high. A tight, eager ass to fuck. Brian saw a man who was reduced to standing on the sidelines, picking up strays at the end of a long night, or paying a hustler to tell him that he was still beautiful, still desirable. Someone who was truly pathetic. Someone his friends whispered about behind his back, wondering what they could do to help poor old Brian.

Fuck that, thought Brian. I won’t let it come to that. I can’t let it come to that!

He still had control over his life. That, at least, still belonged to him. And his life was his to do with whatever he thought was best.

His affairs were in order. His will, leaving everything in trust to his son, Gus, was air-tight. His shrew of a mother and his whining sister couldn’t break it – he had made certain of that. Gus would have money for his schooling and a nice inheritance when he turned 21. Maybe Gus would stop once in a while and wonder about the man who had left it to him. Or maybe it was better that Gus simply forget the man who had been his father for a few short years.

Better that they all forget. That’s the way he wanted it.

Brian knew what he had to do. It would be quick. It would be easy.

He walked past the lamppost on his way to find the Corvette and return to the loft. Weariness overwhelmed him, but he’d soon find rest. And peace, finally.

A hand reached out and touched his arm.

“Excuse me?” It was the young blond man. “Please?”

But Brian didn’t look up.

He walked on into the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting.
> 
> This is not the end of "The Angel Stream." This is only Part I.

Pittsburgh, December 2004

 

I need to go home now, thought Justin. It was cold and his head was aching. He steadied himself against the streetlight, but the slick metal of the post was freezing.

Then Justin looked up. 

There was a man walking towards him.

Justin stared, his mouth falling open. He reached out and touched the man’s arm as he passed by.

“Excuse me?” Justin cried out. He didn’t know what had possessed him to touch this stranger, but he knew that he had to. “Please?”

It was the man Justin had been looking for. The man from his fantasies. Justin knew him in an instant. Knew his tall body. His dark hair. His beautiful face. And his sad, haunted eyes that looked directly into Justin’s heart. Justin knew the man as if he had known him all of his life. Or in a hundred different lives.

The man was wearing a leather jacket and a long black scarf. He had just come out of Babylon, but he was alone. Justin wondered why such a hot man would be leaving the club alone.

But the man kept walking. He didn’t even turn to look at Justin when his fingers brushed the man’s arm.

“Wait!” Justin called urgently. “Don’t do it!”

Brian stopped, startled. Then he turned around. How did this guy know what he was thinking? How did he get into his head? And what did he want?

“Why did you say that to me?” Brian demanded, walking back and confronting Justin. “Who the fuck are you anyway?”

“I...” Justin stared into the man’s eyes. They were dark green with golden flecks and he had long black lashes. Justin felt as if he had looked into those eyes a million times. “Do you have a light?”

Brian sighed. “You have a lit cigarette in your hand.”

“Oh, right,” said Justin. The cigarette dropped out of his hand and into the slush at his feet.

“Where were you headed?” Brian asked. The kid looked young, but not as young as Brian had first thought. Maybe 20 or even 21. Brian wasn’t into twinks. But this one looked lost. As lost as Brian felt.

Justin shook his head. “No place special. I... I just left Babylon. I couldn’t stay there. Not on Christmas Eve.”

“I couldn’t either,” Brian admitted. They stood in uncomfortable silence for another long minute. “Well,” said Brian. “See you.”

Justin took a deep breath. He suddenly felt as if this meeting should have already happened. That the two strangers were playing out a scene that should have taken place years ago, but somehow they both missed it, like a connection you never make that changes your entire life. 

“Take me with you!” Justin’s voice sounded shrill in the frigid air. “It’s cold and I’m sick of standing here!”

Brian recoiled. “Are you a hustler? Because you don’t look like a hustler.” The kid was too well-dressed and he didn’t have the anxious, desperate bravado of a whore. That was one thing Brian knew about from the inside.

“No,” Justin asserted. “I’m not a hustler. I’m just looking for....” He shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what words to use to make it all sound right.

“Looking for what?” asked Brian, suspiciously. “A meal? A lift? A fuck?”

This was the strangest pick-up Brian had had in a long time. The snow began to flurry down again, this time harder. And this young man, his golden hair reflecting the light from the lamppost, the snow landing on his face and shoulders, looked like an angel.

“For you,” Justin said simply. And he knew that it was the truth. “I was looking for you.”

Brian coughed cynically. “What the fuck are you? My Angel of Mercy? Come to save me from myself?”

“Yes,” said Justin.

Then Justin reached up and did what he had been so longing to do. He touched the man’s beautiful face. It was slightly rough along the jaw where his beard was beginning to grow back. Touched it gently. He felt the man shiver and it wasn’t with the cold.

“Please?” Justin asked. 

Brian put his arms around the young man and kissed him there under the streetlight. His soft face was cold, but his full lips were warm. And his tongue was hot. They breathed into each other, eyes closed.

“What are you?” Brian whispered. “Are you really an angel?”

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” Justin whispered back. “If you’ll be everything I need you to be.”

Brian swallowed nervously. If he took this kid home it would be something different. He could feel that. And it frightened him. 

Maybe Brian had already crossed the line. Maybe he had already died and this was what came afterwards. Maybe that was where he was really going. Away with this beautiful young man. Into whatever came after his pathetic life was finally over. Angel of Mercy, indeed.

“We can’t stand around on the sidewalk or Stockwell’s Stormtroopers will haul us off to jail,” said Brian. “Do you want to come back to my loft?”

“Yes,” said Justin. This was what he had been waiting for. The inevitable step. There was no turning back now. “More than anything.”

Brian put his arm around the young man’s shoulder. He felt real. Solid. He wasn’t going to melt away like the snow. Or float up into the air with the winter wind.

“I’m Brian. I don’t live very far.”

“My name is Justin.” Justin slipped his arm around Brian’s waist. It didn’t feel odd to hold this man. It felt right. The rightest thing that Justin had ever done. “And I don’t care how far away you live. Take me there. That’s all I ask.”

“Then let’s go,” said Brian. He felt something change inside him, but he wasn’t afraid anymore. He tilted his face upward and felt the flakes dotting his cheeks and nose. 

Justin rubbed his own face against Brian’s jacket, smelling the leather and the smoke and the sweat of the man who was going to make love to him for the rest of his life.

And the two walked off together as the snow came down around them and the night changed from Christmas Eve into Christmas.

 

*FIN*


End file.
